


it's a kind of (but definitely not) magic

by LadyAllana



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Band Fic, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Triwizard Tournament
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-10-29 05:05:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17801561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyAllana/pseuds/LadyAllana
Summary: The Triwizard Tournament is the buzz, but as they say, life still goes on.Because if there is anything more important than an international school competition, it’s obviously Quidditch.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, the boys (except Roger) are in Slytherin because Slytherins are not all evil masterminds and there is nothing wrong with being ambitious and goal-oriented, and seriously, why not?

 

            He is delivered a golden envelope during breakfast in October.

 

He passes it to his right without looking, trying to dig into the egg toast as fast as he possibly can because he is running late, but the letter suddenly comes to life and walks back to him with angry strides. Sitting to his right, Jim Hutton, one of Roger’s closest friends and the current Hogwarts sweetheart, snickers as he nibbles on some chocolates a pretty, clueless girl from Hufflepuff just gave him.

 

            “Maybe you have an admirer?”

 

            He shrugs, not really offended or flattered by the assumption because yes, he does receive his fair share of love letters. He just assumed that the letter was for Jim, who is currently the most famous person in the school, and their champion for the Triwizard cup. Weeks ago, when the cup was first brought down to the hall, Jim had also egged Roger to put his name in, _Gryffindor’s golden boy with his lion locks_ he had said putting an arm over Roger’s shoulders. Roger had shrugged it off, nose in his scrolls even as they were walking to the class because he couldn’t afford any distractions.

 

Roger didn’t have the time or the patience or to be quite honest, endurance for things like that this year. He was happy riding the high just by standing next to Jim as he was showered with gifts, thank you very much.

 

            He licks his fingers hastily and picks up the letter, which preens and purrs under his touch. Inside, in a curling script, it reads:

 

            _You are formally invited to join the tryouts for Queen._

Roger scoffs.

 

            Queen is somewhat of a local sensation. An outrageous band he assumes that is led by a seventh year Slytherin named Freddie Mercury, there is no doubt they will go to places once they leave Hogwarts behind and manage to find a halfway decent drummer who could keep up with the genuinely talented members.

 

            He looks up to the Slytherin table, where Freddie sits with a girl from Beauxbatons, arms and legs seemingly entangled. They seem to be feeding each other something sticky and look very cheesy doing it. Noticing Roger’s gaze, Freddie waves at him with a cheeky smile that makes Roger suddenly want to punch his face.

 

            Roger knows Freddie from previous classes of course and has seen him here and there all summer. They worked in shops next to each other, Roger selling ice cream to giggling preteens and Freddie selling overpriced hats and bags to elderly rich witches.  They also both played in various cafes and clubs throughout London, though either with Queen or alone Freddie took to the stage much later at night than Roger did. Freddie has a beautiful voice and a natural charisma to go with it that just enchants people without the help of magic, Roger can admit that. Even the weird teeth he refuses to fix look charming in a special way. What he didn’t know though, was the fact that Freddie also watched him play and that he was aware that Roger had called it quits with Tim.

 

            Roger has been drumming as long as he can remember. He has started with the church choir and the piano, then his mother had to find him other activities to deal with his hyperactivity. Though he still plays the piano occasionally, it’s the drums that have stolen his heart. He hopes to be in a professional band someday but not now. It’s one of the reasons why Smile fell apart honestly. Tim, a couple of years older, simply refused to wait until Roger could spare him the time it took to write songs and record an album. And really, Roger has no dreams or misconceptions about how long that’s supposed to take. He might be good, but no one is that good. It’s his last year, he is taking two extra courses and feels like the weight on his shoulders has been doubled since Jim has been chosen as the Hogwarts champion, meaning that he must remain unharmed and healthy at all cost and Roger has to work even harder at being the best beater Gryffindor has ever seen. He doesn’t have enough hours in a day to do all these things and he knows it’s not his studies he can slack on his last year.

 

            Plus, this sudden offer just feels off somehow, the timing of it… very convenient. It is the perfect opportunity to weaken the Gryffindor team, is it not? Slytherin has a brilliant line up this year, even a chaser in talks of signing a professional contract as soon as she graduates. It would be the perfect move on their part to do their best to weaken their rival team and strike them where they are the weakest this year, with their star beater not only trying to win the house cup but also the Triwizard one. And if Jim is unable to focus a hundred percent on the game, Roger has to work twice as hard just in case. He can’t afford to be distracted with songs and beats that refuse to leave his head. He needs to be able to take care of his team.

 

            And to hell with it, he won’t let anybody, especially not a rock band from a rival house, get in the way between him and the last Quidditch cup of his six-year Quidditch career, no way.

 

            “Come Jim, you still have some time for practice, don’t you?”

 

            He doesn’t go to the auditions.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

            He drags Jim to Hogsmeade one weekend when there is, by a total coincidence of course, a free show by Queen going on. Roger definitely didn’t see the posters around the school or hear the announcement that morning in the Great Hall by Freddie himself. It seems that the whole village is filled with people, not just Hogwarts students but wizards and witches of all ages listening and singing, totally captivated. All eyes are on Freddie, who is just singing in …are they leotards?

 

            As he listens with a lollipop in his mouth and looking as disinterested as physically possible next to a jumping Jim, Roger can’t help but think their new drummer is total shit and doesn’t fit the band sound at all. Too weak, too bland, too methodical, not at all how Roger would play that song… no. What he needs to focus on is Quidditch. And his lessons. He has no time standing here, thinking the worst of a probably very cool guy he has never met before.

 

            He drags Jim away from the crowd to go find some butterbeer to drown his sorrows in and totally doesn’t notice the lovesick look on Jim’s face whose eyes follow the front man all the way to the other end of the fucking street.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

            In early November, right before the exams start, Brian freaking May of all people approaches him with his astronomy notes, a class Roger has to take but absolutely hates because he just doesn’t understand what the hell it is about. He has missed the last class because of a dislocated shoulder, no big deal and totally worth it in the end, but is now totally lost without these notes, which he can’t but has to take.

 

            The Slytherin head boy, who looks like a lanky tree with a head full of curls that makes him look like a poodle offers them to him with a kind smile and another golden letter.

 

            It’s embarrassing to admit, but Roger might have had a crush on him back in third grade. Back then he was just figuring out his sexual orientation and Brian was the cute nerdy guy who sat next to him in Transfiguration and didn’t speak a single word unless it was to the professor. He has long since stopped thinking of him that way – or so Roger thought because that might have been a mistake just look at those cheekbones- and Brian had a grand makeover in the last two years since he found a rock band and got an eyebrow piercing of all things.

 

            Brian pushes the notes and the envelope to his hands and their fingers brush, Roger’s arm tingling all the way up to his shoulder. By now, Roger has seen Queen play in Hogsmeade again with yet another mediocre drummer and has followed Brian’s fingers on the guitar with a religious fervor just to stop from trying to kill the poor sod with his gaze, not that he would ever tell Brian that.

 

            It’s not until he runs up to the dorm to clear his head that he opens the letter.

 

            The curling, pretentious script which, Roger looks at the neatly written notes, doesn’t belong to Brian, reads:

 

            _You know you can do better than that, Taylor._

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

            The first task is brutal, Roger feels like puking just by watching the contestants getting chased around by dragons. Don’t get him wrong, he lives for adrenaline and Jim’s broom approach is nothing short of absolutely astonishing, but Roger likes his skin fair, not crispy. If he had any regrets about not putting his name in the cup, they are up in a cloud of smoke right now.

 

            Back then he was simply thinking he was too busy with Quidditch and his N.E.W.T.’s, his family’s expectations of him to become a healer and at least kind of continue the family tradition strong. Roger liked competing, liked being brave and popular and well-liked by his peers. He loved attention too if he was going to be completely honest. But as he watches he can’t help but think that he really wasn’t made for this.

 

            Stubbornly choosing to sit next to him, Queen members don’t look much better than he does. They have been forcing their friendship down Roger’s throat for some time now, which Roger equally stubbornly refuses, not answering requests to have dinner together, or that he came to practice after in the Room of Requirement even if it’s just for watching.

 

            But he can’t help but feel sorry for Freddie, who has spent the last two hours eating his prettily colored Gryffindor red nails to the bone. John has helpfully informed him that the Beauxbatons champion is not Freddie’s new flame but his best friend whom he has known ever since they were in diapers. Freddie couldn’t even bear to watch her turn in the pit, only looking up from Brian’s shoulder when the cannon blows, and she was safely lifted up with her prize cradled in her arms. He still looks very worried as he watches the Hogwarts champion, though Roger doubts he would hold his school over his best friend, he does not really know Freddie.

 

            There is a moment where Roger thinks he will faint, but Jim manages to secure his egg just in time, crowds cheering.

 

            It’s maybe half an hour before they find themselves at the bottom of the stairs, Roger squished between a girl a year under and the whole bulk of Queen. He can smell Brian’s long hair, which is making him a bit dizzy all of a sudden. But surely, it's just his fear for Jim's wellbeing that is still affecting him so.

 

             Jim is there, sitting on a rock and talking fervently with Mary, who is nursing a broken arm. She seems to be saying something to assure him, and they can hear a tear laugh coming out of Jim as he sees them approaching.

 

            Hair in disarray and half stumbling Freddie rushes to Mary, but she steps back and ushers Jim forward instead.

 

            Bloody, ashen and looking somewhere between dead and victorious, Jim offers the egg to Freddie, who takes it with glee and jumps up into his arms and kisses him soundly in front of a stadium full of students and professors.

 

            Huh, maybe Roger was too busy avoiding Freddie to notice this new… complication.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

            Since Jim has started _dating_ the obnoxiously dressed vocalist -seriously they wear uniforms, he has no idea how Freddie even manages to do these things- _Queen_ just seems to be everywhere. Sitting with them during breakfast, lunch and dinner bothering Roger in every which way possible, which Jim just refuses to notice, the love-stricken fool that he is.

 

            One week after the first task with the dragons, John Deacon comes and sits down next to him in the library and passes him a book about Egyptian hexes. Inside there is yet another golden envelope, which Roger has learned by now that has been spelled so that it can’t be ripped apart or burned to ashes in a fit of rage.

 

            This envelope is thicker than the ones before and inside Roger sees a scroll full of musical notes and annotations.

_It’s called Dragon Attack, bet you can’t play this one._

Upon seeing the furious look on Roger’s face, John laughs and goes back to writing something on his scroll. Roger wants to yell at him, but he is not even allowed to whisper in here!

 

            He sighs, eyes glazing over the notes, feet silently tapping the floor without him noticing what he’s really doing.

            He cannot let Freddie fucking Mercury get to him like this.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

            Gryffindor wins the game against Hufflepuff in the last game of the semester, though it has been a tiring and a bloody match. Roger watches as their seeker is airlifted to the Hospital Wing and tries to get his gloves off with two -or maybe three he is not sure- broken fingers, all the while shivering under the heavy snow that had started late into the exhausting game.

 

            He can feel a bruise blooming on his cheek and taste his own blood, but his injuries are not alarming and can wait until the crowd settles down a bit and the rest of the team are taken care of.

 

            He is just about to give up and call Jim for help when he looks up and notices that the head boy is looking at him, fidgeting. He is standing next to Freddie, who has glued himself to Jim again, uncaring of the blood and the mud. John is nowhere to be seen, and Roger is not surprised but kind of angry at himself for noticing his absence.

 

            Probably noticing Roger’s trouble with his fingerless gloves Brian walks up to him in slow steps, Freddie shouting something unrecognizable behind him.

 

            He pulls off the dark green scarf from around his neck and starts putting it around Roger, spelled to stay warm and cozy. He tentatively gets Roger’s long hair out of the way. Suddenly feeling the warmth against his nape without anything in the way Roger feels himself melting away like a cat lying under the sun, butterflies start flying in his stomach.

 

            No, it’s just after match jitters.

 

            Brian gingerly takes the glove off, inspecting Roger’s broken fingers carefully, then getting his wand out, does a silent spell that makes Roger feel warm all over and lean on to Brian a bit.

 

            Brian’s fingers come up to brush over the cheek where Roger can vaguely feel a shallow cut.

 

            “Would you…” Brian seems to stumble over his words, but his hand is still on Roger’s cheek, no one is pulling away. Not Roger, who really thought he wanted but now wouldn’t for the life of him with Brian’s long gentle fingers on his skin.

 

            He can feel Brian’s breath on his lips.

 

             “Would you do me the honor of accompanying me to the ball?”

 

            Freddie is cooing at them in the background, Roger has to resist the urge to flip him off.

 

            Roger should say no, must say no. But Brian is looking so earnest, his brown eyes so warm and loving…

 

            He is so doomed.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really not comfortable with writing happy stuff... don't know what that says about me but it can't be good.

           He is not sure how, but somehow Mary and Veronica- John’s Hufflepuff chaser girlfriend who is two years younger and who managed to dodge a bludger Roger very skillfully send her way that last game- convince him and Jim to go robe shopping together. Normally, when with friends who are not actively trying to sabotage his career, he likes shopping. He likes to think he has an eye for good fashion and isn’t afraid to make bold choices and make them work somehow. For example, just last year the whole girls' dorm made him take them shopping with them, just so he can show them the pink sparkly converses he got in spring, he even got a couple of dates out of it. He rarely gets any shit for it, knowing his way around a bat goes a long way when it comes to unnecessary obnoxious bullying. Still, shopping with these girls, who are neither possible love interests nor his younger sister, is very uncomfortable… and no, no matter what they say it has nothing to do with his _innate desire_ to look beautiful for Brian.

 

 

            Roger was honestly planning on spending the weekend in the library and catch up with some work. He admits that it hasn’t been a very productive plan, as the girls found him drooling over a charms textbook earlier and dragged him with bed hair horribly intact.

 

            Thankfully it is snowing so he was allowed to put a beanie on in case they saw the boys on the street. Apparently, the girls thought it would be much more fun if they only got to see their dates in full costume right before the start of the dance. Freddie and Mary came up with this very complicated plan that only allowed them to shop at the only two different robe stores in the village. They would meet up for some drinks in the middle and then switch shops and nobody would be the wiser.

 

            Mary is going with a boy from Durmstrang, she reveals, but she has been given specific information about what everyone should be wearing to match by Freddie and treats this responsibility as if she has been forced into an unbreakable bond. Well, Roger has seen Freddie charm a crowd to do crazier things. Who knows what poor Mary has been subjected to in fifteen years.

 

            He is forced into a midnight blue robe with constellations on his shirt of all things, swirling ever so slowly so that it’s not distracting but sparkling in an admittedly cool way. _Brian loves astrology._ Honestly, he and Brian didn’t have much time to speak, with the finals creeping up fast after the first task and a million essays waiting to be written. If Roger is busting his ass to get a chance at applying for healer studies, Brian is just all around … nerdy. He genuinely enjoys the work he is given and watching him as they study silently in the library, Roger can see why he was chosen the head boy. Whenever Brian catches him looking, he offers a shy smile, which makes butterflies dance in Roger’s stomach.

 

            It’s not exactly a welcomed feeling, especially since he has to focus on his own study material, but he feels he might be slowly becoming addicted to it.

 

            Around lunchtime, they meet up at the Three Broomsticks. Mary winks at Freddie, showing the clothing bag Roger has in his hands for the whole room to see and Freddie gives her two thumbs up before dragging Jim to his lap and promptly snogging the hell out of him. The poor sod can do nothing but melt on the crazy dude and Roger sighs, sitting down, totally wiped out already.

 

            Brian holds out his own glass at him and he takes it gratefully, downing what’s left in it in one big gulp. And if Brian takes his hand under the table and tangles their fingers together, making Roger spit up half of it on Freddie and Jim, then no one needs to know why.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

            In a shimmering silver dress, Mary helps him do his hair, which is getting way too long to be anywhere near acceptable by his family once he graduates. It feels nice to have Mary’s wands warm it up and curl it though and Roger can’t help but run his hands over the curls, he will miss them once they are gone.

 

            Well, he can just play with Brian’s natural ones then.

 

            Hopefully.

 

            One day.

 

            If he lets him.

 

            Roger can feel himself blush just thinking about it, he is pathetic.

 

            They are all huddled in the seventh-year dormitory in the Gryffindor tower, the only other two occupants of the room having left early. They got booed once the girls, both petite, beautiful and popular, though very calm and sweet in complexion, came up with their makeup supplies in tow. Roger learned that Ronnie was a half-blood only when she came after him with a kohl pencil to _bring out his blue jewel eyes_ instead of doing it with a wand as witches tend to do. He could swear that she was still holding a grudge for that bludger because bugger that, it really hurt to be stabbed in the eye.

 

            Jim is kneeling on the floor in a pristine looking tux, looking puzzled as he tries to figure out how to tie the long laces of Ronnie’s red heels around her ankles, while she is sitting on his bed, jelling his hair with sticky fingers. When did they become so close, Roger has no idea. Roger feels like he has no time for all these new people who come creeping in from every cracked door and window, he has completely lost the control of his personal life as well as his academic one.  But these newfound friendships feel precious in their own way, not like the idea of being the drummer for _Queen,_ or having a date with Brian which is heart fluttering and exciting in their own way, but something that reminds him of the long summer nights he would indulge his sister and play house, or singing with his grandma during the holidays.

 

            They go down the stairs together, Ronnie’s arm in his and Mary’s in Jim’s, turning heads left and right. Yes, neither he nor Jim had any shortage of dates before, but the attention still feels a bit surreal, especially when they finally meet up with the boys at the entrance. Both Jim and Queen have girls and boys who are fawning over them, though maybe precisely because of this aura of popularity, no one dares to come inside their close circle, even Mary's date, a tall blond boy Roger doesn't remember seeing around before, waits by the door silently, with a dazed look upon his face. 

 

            Mary kisses them both on the cheeks and goes to hug Freddie -in his fiery red tuxedo that somehow works-before she gets in line with her companion/date from Durmstrang. John, once he picks up his mouth from the floor escorts Veronica in.

 

            Roger is vaguely aware as Jim goes to Freddie and gives him a kiss on the lips, but to be quite honest, he is completely captivated by Brian’s beauty. Brian has foregone the bowtie for a bolo with a red guitar on it and Roger can see the same constellations on his purple jacket. He still has the piercing on, but now they are accompanied by matching earrings.

 

            He takes Roger’s breath away.

 

            Really, it’s completely ridiculous, he can feel himself starting to hyperventilate.

 

            Brian offers his arm to him, but shaking himself out of the trance, Roger smiles and takes his hand instead. With a small nod to Jim, Freddie and Mary who are going to open the dance, they go inside to find some drinks and spend the next ten minutes just staring into each other’s eyes instead.

 

            Around two hours in, dancing, smiling and a little bit tipsy Roger has stepped on Brian’s toes for at least four times without any complaints from the taller boy. Brian just looks at him with gentle, kinds eyes and leads him around the dance floor with a firm hand on Roger’s back.

 

            Roger is giddy with the sensation that _yes, this is going really well._ He can feel the electricity on his fingertips, not sure if its excessive energy, the buzz of the spiked punch, magic or simply butterflies, it makes him grin like a maniac, and instead of freaking about it Brian just mirrors it, teeth perfect, lips perfect, eyes just…

 

            Roger feels like laughing until his lungs hurt and he falls to the floor from the sheer strength of it.

 

            Maybe Brian will join him there.

 

            Maybe he can steal a kiss,

 

            or even two, _how great would that be._

            As Brian is about to turn him around, they are suddenly interrupted, and Roger suddenly finds himself in Freddie’s arms instead. Freddie’s tie is gone, there is sweat on his brow and he is positively glowing as he drags Roger further away from Brian laughing, funnily enough, a much more manic but compatible dancing partner to Roger’s restless feet. On the corner of his eye, Roger watches as Brian and Jim stand there laughing at them.

 

            “So… are you enjoying yourself, dear?” Freddie asks, voice breathless and an entire octave higher than normal. Roger tears his eyes from Brian, who is for some reason, getting rid of the amazingly tailored jacket that only leaves him with a white shirt on and starts to open the buttons on his sleeves.

 

            What?

 

            “I’m not the one who has been dancing with the champion all night,” he replies, eyes still on Brian as Freddie keeps turning him round and round until Roger feels dizzy with it, too short to take the control of the dance from Freddie’s manic disposition.

 

            “I thought you could do us a favor, just this once, yeah?”

 

            _Now, for a special performance, please welcome to the stage Hogwarts’ very own Queen!_

When he looks up, he can see both John and Brian in the suddenly cleared opening in the middle of the ballroom, guitars already at hand.

 

Freddie drags him to the stage and hands him a tambourine of all things.

 

            He smiles, front teeth escaping his mouth, breathtaking.

 

            “Just keep up darling!”

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brian is extremely cool and extremely nerdy at the same time (there is no way you can earn the title Rock Legend and Astrophysicist at the same time if you are not both) so really, how can I, a mere mortal, write his awesomeness properly?

 

            Roger finds it a relief to be back at home, happy to spend some time with his family, well at least his sister. His parents, both esteemed doctors in their fields, are worried about his grades as always, and no matter how many times he tells his father that Hogwarts doesn’t work the same way as a normal school does, he is still being quizzed on biology and mathematics at home.

 

            Back when his now beloved Transfiguration professor arrived at their doorstep, his parents had been… well, a kind word to describe it would be hesitant, and that was putting it very mildly. Once it had become an undeniable fact to them that their hyperactive, aloof eleven-year-old was, in fact, a wizard, his father had been furious. When he was eventually allowed to seek a magical education, and really, he must admit that he had cried buckets over it, not aware that when it came to it, it was mandatory and his parents had no legal rights to stop him in a magical court anyway, one of the conditions had been being homeschooled during his holidays as well as via owl during school time. Which meant that he was to learn whatever a muggle child learned throughout early education and take the exams for them as well even if he was a full-time student in another school with a completely different curriculum than what their government deemed necessary for the children.

 

            Roger has found a delicate equilibrium since then, which consists of some barely passing grades, especially at more social subjects both at Hogwarts and outside of it even though he actually enjoys them more. He thinks that his professors are aware of it, even cutting him some slack and letting him practice Quidditch instead of giving him detention and extra work. The stress of it takes a toll though, not only he has to be good at certain subjects to apply for a healing apprenticeship at St. Mungo’s but he also has to study to apply for a medical school of his parents choosing and he also has to keep up an above average performance in Quidditch because he really doesn’t think he could endure seeing the look of disappointment on his beloved professor’s face, who has stood up against both his parents and various other teachers for him.

 

            “Doctor, healer… no matter what you call it, you need to know this stuff! Stop goofing around Roger.”

 

            It is an indisputable truth that his recent _goofing around_ with Queen is affecting him negatively. He has known since the beginning that he had no time or energy to spare for them, but they had been irresistible. Freddie with his crazy charm, John’s knowing silent looks and Brian…

 

            Roger knows he is going to be his downfall.

 

            He is going to lose all that he has worked towards and the sad part of it is that he is actually looking forward to it.

 

            A week into the break, he wakes up to an owl waiting for him at his window. As she always did ever since she was but a toddler seeing one there his first Christmas back home, his sister is looking at it -in this case her- with great interest and tries to grab the letter from Roger’s hand, it’s kind of shitty how her height is getting so close to his. Roger jumps on the bed and keeps her at an arm’s length as he secures the letter between his teeth, and gives the patient, beautiful owl some treats for the way back. Roger doesn’t have any pets himself, doesn’t have the patience or the responsibility for it, but looking at the sheer elegance of her, it’s really not much of a mystery who she belongs to.

 

            As predicted, it is another golden envelope, this time it has delicately drawn snowflakes on it. Roger finds himself smiling because though Freddie is always doodling something on the edges of his scrolls, this really looks like it took time and effort.

 

            Noticing the expression on his face Clare sits down on the foot of the bed, knowing that she is much likely to get the truth out of him later if she relents now and waits patiently. Clare has always been loving and patient, and never once – at least not when he was around- resented him for having magic when she didn’t. In return, Roger did his very best to include her to all the possible activities the wizarding world offered to muggles. He brought candies and books, took her to games and concerts. She was the only one in the family who truly knew how passionate about music Roger really was, even continuing her so-called devastatingly boring piano lessons just so Roger had something to compose on during the breaks and asking for an acoustic guitar on her twelfth birthday and getting magically bored of it in two months, subsequently sending it to Roger.

 

            He thinks she is treated better at home than he is the limited time he is here, but if not, he has promised to build a sturdy future for himself that he could include her in without shame or suffering. If needs must, he will take care of her no matter what the cost.

 

            Clare drags him down next to her by his sides, bony fingers hurting more than tickling, not that he minds very much, he has missed her so.

 

            Roger sits down next to her and opens the letter, spelled to sing a jingle in Freddie’s mocking -or perhaps he is serious Roger seriously can’t figure the guy out- voice much to his sister’s delight. The first thing he notices is that it’s not Freddie’s handwriting.

 

            _Dear Roger,_

_Happy New Year!_

_We were hoping you could join us for a little recording session next Tuesday at the address given below. Of course, you don’t have to, but it would make me very happy to see you during the holidays._

_Always yours,_

_Brian._

 

            “Brian? The guy from the dance Brian?” Clare squeals. Roger covers her mouth with his hand to shut her up. It will do no one any good if their mother hears her from downstairs.

 

            “Yes,” he hisses, “that Brian.”

 

            “The Slytherin head boy?” Claire asks again, jumping up and down with glee Roger will never admit feeling inside, too mortified to talk about this stuff with his baby sister.

 

            “The very same.”

 

            “I thought you said Slytherins were cunning?”

 

            “Well, yes.”

 

            “And those guys were trying to con you into giving away the Quidditch cup.”

 

            “They are ambitious, planning.”

 

            _“Evil, villainous…”_

 

            “Yes, I know what I said!”

 

            Claire lies down on the bed, sock-clad feet dangling to the floor.

 

            “You also told me Brian looked like an adorable poodle in a tuxedo,” she whispers, a lot more serious now.

 

            Roger blushes.

 

            Seeing the look on his face, she jumps up and goes to Roger’s closet.

 

            “So… what are you going to wear?”

  


  


* * *

 

 

            Tuesday, Roger takes the bus to a busy street near the studio, hoping to calm his nerves a bit by walking some. Though the night of the ball has been amazing and lovely and nothing short of perfect, he isn’t really sure where he stands with Brian yet, having been swept away in the success of the performance that day and leaving the school early next morning.

 

            He is wearing tight, ripped jeans per his sister’s insistence that they make his ass look good, but his dick is going to fall off from the cold any second and it doesn’t seem like a fair trade. He has also been studying his ass off, trying to shut his father up by showing some sort of progress in his studies, which means he is still supporting the perpetual panda eyes. He doesn’t know why Brian would go for him now to be honest, if he hasn’t noticed Roger at his best last year finally free of the acne and the baby fat, and actually sleeping like a human being, there really is no way someone like Brian finds him attractive as the ghost of Christmas present.

 

            He finds the studio by sheer force of will. He doesn’t know much about the families of the Slytherin boys, perhaps his prejudice got the best of him, thinking that they would be rich and pompous. Freddie certainly acts like so, posh accent heads and shoulders above him most of the time. But either that has been another misconception Roger has had or their parents are simply against a musical career like Roger’s are, because this place can only be categorized as a shithole.

 

            It’s not muggle design at least because the equipment must be decades old and no way they could function properly without magical aid.

 

            He doesn’t think he is early, Roger is never early anywhere according to his mother, but once he manages to stop staring at the old but somehow very pretty drum set on the corner with two shiny, mesmerizing cymbals, he realizes that the small recording room is empty but him and Freddie, who is casually lying on the keyboard, wearing  loose cotton pants and a bright red sweatshirt covering his messy hair.

 

            How he manages to keep that evil grin on his face when he is obviously half asleep, Roger doesn’t want to know. It really doesn’t help his nerves that neither Jim nor Brian are here to act as a human shield lest Roger loses his patience and try to punch him, or worse Freddie decides to reveal himself as the succubus he really is and suck him dry right here.

 

            Roger hasn’t even got to live yet, and really, he is too pretty to die in a dingy hole like this.

 

            “You see Roger, we really want to record a demo for this but unfortunately we have found ourselves without a drummer again. Somehow they all leave…”

 

            “Yeah, I wonder why….” Roger says under his breath, trying to hide it under a cough as he looks around the dusty space.

 

            “Did you say something, dear?” Freddie asks, tone wicked, as he gets up and fishes some cigarettes out of his pocket. He yawns and clears his throat, totally not bothered by the fact that only Roger is around during their limited recording time.

 

            Roger, who only came to watch Brian play the guitar with his long, sexy fingers.

 

            “Yeah, will the others be here soon Fred?”

 

            “Should be in a mo darling, relax, take a seat, you look lovely enough for Brian to eat you up for dessert, now tell me, can you sing at all?”

 

            Roger has no idea how, but by the time Brian comes stumbling in with John and Veronica, Freddie has made Roger record two full songs, delighted out of his mind that Roger can sing higher than him.

 

 

* * *

 

  


            The start of the new term comes with a dislocated shoulder and what Roger can only describe as a brain aneurysm because Brian has decided to get a lip piercing of all things. He sheepishly touches it and says that he has lost a dare to Freddie and got reprimanded for it by his parents as well as the headmaster, or well something like that because Roger is too busy staring with his brains melting off his nose.

 

            It even makes him shake off the pain of his shoulder, which will take more than a simple potion to heal. Roger bows his head down as he listens, not ready to face the disappointed looks on his captain’s and Jim’s faces, knowing all too well that he should have been more careful. He is not allowed on a broom for at least two weeks, which at best gives him a week before the first match if he is even allowed to be in it at all.

 

            “What was the dare?” he asks, once he is alone in the hospital wing with the head boy, who is only there because he has to make night rounds soon. If only Roger hadn’t been stupid enough to get knocked off his broom early in the morning and hadn’t spent the rest of the day stuck in this bed.

 

            Brian had come in looking all pale, with the rest of the band at his heels only after the classes had ended but hadn’t said a word to him directly with the others around. He had asked about his shoulder and then told the others to go to dinner by themselves. They had then eaten together in silence, Roger trying to talk about how stupid he had been and Brian talking about some random star or the other he saw during the break with his father.

 

            Now they sit together, Roger on the bed and Brian on a stool next to him, mouth worrying over the captivating piercing in what surely must be painful tugs. His hand is hovering around the bandages around Roger’s left hand, the whole of his arm crushed under his weight after the bad fall.

 

            Brian looks up with a hum, but his hand finally rests on his gingerly.

 

            “It was silly really. I was planning on… this is awkward. We were just talking about the ball and he asked if we’ve-“ he stops, cheeks red. His fingers are drawing patterns on Roger’s hand which he can barely feel with how numbed the whole arm is.

 

            “We’ve?”

 

            He laughs, nervous. It makes Roger feel all warm inside.

 

            “He asked if I had gathered the courage to get my head out of my ass and kiss you already and I said I would that day, in the studio,” like a deer caught in the headlights, he hurries to explain, “not that I would have without your permission, but he said that he would dare me that I wouldn’t be able to. That’s why he didn’t leave you alone all day and send me to run errands across town.”

 

            Roger looks at their hands together, then to Brian’s adorable red face. A smile spreads across his own, teeth catching on his lip, unable to grin like a madman.

 

            “So, you lost then?” he asks, voice soft but high and giddy, biting his own tongue out of the sudden rush of excitement he can’t quite manage to contain.

 

            “I did,” Brian confirms, his hand now holding Roger’s firmly now that he is sure he isn’t hurting Roger by that simple action.

 

            “Well... I like it,” Roger admits, finally looking up to meet Brian’s eyes.

 

            “Want to make another dare?”

 

            Brian comes closer then, his other hand slowly cups Roger’s cheek, fingers ghosting over bone, “No.”

 

            Roger isn’t sure if he closes his eyes before or after Brian’s lips finally capture his, but he doesn’t open them for a long while.

 

  


* * *

 

  


            The following weeks are spent with Roger’s recovery, heavy study sessions that hardly involve any naughty stuff because really, he is truly dating a nerd and stolen kisses in the snow, all of which have Freddie’s crazy laughter as permanent background noise in Roger’s newly found life.

 

            Valentines morning, Roger wakes up to a golden envelope on his bed, with it are a chocolate frog and two red roses.

 

            No one is surprised when Brian, drinking pitch black coffee sitting at the Slytherin breakfast table, finds himself with a lap full of blonde Gryffindor beater still in his pajamas.


	4. Chapter 4

Roger will have to buy many pints for Jim after this because he seriously didn’t think the other beater cared for him this much. Sure, they have spent the last couple of years glued to each other’s sides, sleeping in the same dorm, taking the same classes, playing the same position but he didn’t think Jim considered him as his best friend or one of his family… apparently, he was very much so mistaken.

 

            So really, he didn’t expect to be called into the headmaster’s office and be drugged unconscious. When he comes to, he is in freezing cold water and the cannon going off gives him the worst headache of his life. He tries to take a deep breath but gulps down a mouthful muddy water that tastes absolutely disgusting.

 

            Jim drags him to the pier, where he is immediately engulfed in heated towel and Brian’s longs arms around him. John is doing the same for Jim.

 

            Before he can form proper words to ask – because his teeth are clacking so hard- what is going on and why it was him who was chosen as Jim’s damsel in distress, he sees Freddie and Mary in the corner, under the same blanket and clinging to each other desperately. Though Jim and Freddie are in the middle of some of the most sickening puppy love Hogwarts has ever seen, he must have meant to Mary more. It’s a really special relationship to watch, and it’s Mary whose trembling fingers open up their towel – which seems to get bigger- for Jim to come in and snuggle with them.

 

            Brian holds him even closer.

           

            Roger coughs up the rest of the water, dry heaving to the wet wooden floor. Then he leans back on Brian’s shoulder, puts his head to the crook of his neck, closes his eyes and breathes until he can get his heart rate under control.

 

           

* * *

 

 

 

            The Quidditch season stops for no one, not for their Triwizard champion nor the three seventh year students in the team who are slowly but steadily driving their brooms to their deaths. Their team captain Tim, an ambitious chaser if Roger has ever seen one, has no mercy for them because he has no mercy for himself. Roger barely has the time to sleep, let alone spend any time with Brian and he imagines it’s very much the same for Jim and Freddie. They find themselves in the Gryffindor common room a lot, for the lack of time and place to actually see the people they care about, let alone spend quality time with them. Not that it’s very normal for three Slytherins and a Hufflepuff and a girl from Beauxbatons to be around, but Jim has a lot of saying in what goes around this year. Roger usually sprawled over Brian’s lap, who occasionally has to pull on his hair to keep him awake, both studying furiously with so little time left. Freddie, who claims to have no interest in furthering his academical studies, spends most of the time sitting on the carpet in front of the fire, with the pink acoustic guitar that originally belonged to Clare.

 

            For all of Roger’s worries that this Queen thing was just a big distraction for the Slytherin team to win the championship – and really, turns out both John and Freddie are quite avid fans, they just happen to be dating people in other teams so they can’t really support their own- the final match is between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff.

 

            That morning finds them separated because while Brian and Freddie are hanging out at the Gryffindor table during breakfast, they can’t exactly ask Veronica to stay apart from her own team. John and Mary accompany her, sitting right behind Freddie and Jim so that they are all technically in a big dysfunctional circle.

 

            “You guys know I’ll kick your asses!” Veronica shouts a stray piece of cheese flying off to Freddie’s hair.

 

            “In your dreams Tetzlaff, in your dreams!”

 

            They play in horrible British weather, a combination of fog and rain that is so nasty that Roger loses the rest of his shitty eyesight to the dripping wet hair that keeps hitting him in the eye at lightning speed. He doesn’t even hear the cannon signaling the end of the game, so far up in the air and caught in the wind, swinging for dear life until Jim manages to catch him and drag him down, one arm carefully pulled to his chest and his bat suspiciously missing.

 

            Roger has made four good hits and still has his, so he will hold his over Jim for quite a while, thank you very much.

 

            He sees their seeker with the snitch in his hand as they finally land, the tribunes covered in red and gold, cheers inaudible to Roger’s poor ears subjected to a storm so far up for far too long.

 

            Veronica catches his eye and sends him a little wink, but Roger runs to her and envelops her in a huge wet hug, neither too steady on legs gripping a broom for more than five hours.

           

            “You’ll get it next year.”

 

            “You bet your ass I will.”

 

            By the time Roger and Jim manage to make it back to the school, it’s already dinner time. The Great Hall covered in Gryffindor flags, his favorite foods laid upon the table in front of him, hair combed back, eyes checked and clad in his too big Quidditch sweater Roger tries to sneakily gulp down Brian’s pumpkin juice, an impossible feat considering that he has spent the last fifteen minutes laying on the taller boy’s shoulder, happily hand fed vegetables of all things.

 

            “So… now that you’ve won,” Freddie says across the table, eating a chocolate pudding the size of Roger’s head and thoroughly enjoying it, he reaches inside his robe for something and Roger knows what it is even before Freddie takes it out.

 

            The golden envelope is back. Inside the bigger on the inside golden paper, Roger sees two drumsticks. Intricate designs on the handles look like to be close imitations of Roger’s wand, considered to be too feminine by his father, familiar and comfortable when he reaches inside to take them out. Brian puts an arm across his back as he straightens and brings them closer to the candlelight. In Freddie’s pompous, pretentious but admittedly very pretty writing one reads, _Queen_ and the other _Roger Meddows Tyler._

            Roger smiles and nods, reaching for Freddie’s pudding and Brian leans down to kiss his hair.

 

* * *

 

 

            Roger would quite like this to be over with. He likes action and adrenaline just as the next guy, but Freddie looks about ready to fall over, face pale and nails bitten to the bone. Veronica painted them for him earlier, one hand in light blue and silver for Mary, the other red and gold for Jim. They had both left with big smooches on Freddie’s sunken cheeks, one red with beard burn from the perpetual five o’clock beard Jim has started to support with the coming of summer and the other with a bright red lipstick mark on it, a gift to Mary from Freddie himself no doubt.

 

            Honestly, he doesn’t know when he and Freddie got so close, if it was the endless vocal sessions that started recently or a common love for muggle fashion. A pureblood by birth but rebel by heart, Freddie adores the so-called “wonders” the muggle world has to offer to him, which include secondhand shops Roger used to pick up shifts at during breaks. Dating Brian for the last couple of months and finally accepting that willingly or not, he has become a part of Queen- _“Look, it’s the handsome drummer from Queen!” –_ he has spent almost as much as time with them as he has with Brian. And perhaps it’s because they are the two extroverts in the group, but it is usually easier for them to strike a conversation or spend some easy time together. So somehow, he finds himself the one holding Freddie as they wait for their friends to come out of the labyrinth.

 

            In the last couple of weeks, their friends grew noticeable uneasy, and it was easy to see it affected Freddie the most. Even though they spent a lot of time in a makeshift studio in the Room of Requirement where Freddie has tested the limits of Roger’s highs and lows and has managed to write a dozen songs featuring Roger’s -admittedly new and quite hard to achieve- falsetto, more than inspired and excited he looked tired and worried, the lyrics of the songs reflecting to his internal turmoil. Roger spent the last thirty minutes of their recording session of _Lap of the Gods_ holding Freddie as he cried, Brian and John watching helplessly. They made sure to sneak him back to Roger and Jim’s dorm room that night before they went for an all-nighter in the library, where Roger slept curled in Brian’s lap more than he studied, his application already sent for consideration and muggle books too heavy for his mind and heart to deal with.

 

            Finally, after hours and hours of waiting -Roger wasn’t mad enough to get into the tournament himself but he has hardly been one for standing idly by and waiting for the action to be over- Freddie knocks his head on his shoulder so loud that Roger yelps, Freddie’s reaction so quick and instantaneous that he thinks the fireworks and the cannon signaling the end of the final round came after.

 

            “Who won? Who won? Who won?” Freddie mumbles against his shoulder, voice dry and urgent.

 

            Roger looks up to the blue fireworks and takes in the silent disappointment of the Hogwarts crowd they sit with, a smile spreading on his face as he makes eye contact with Brian to confirm.

 

            He doesn’t know if Freddie is more disappointed than he is happy, and Freddie doesn’t show anything but crazy excitement and overflowing love as he hugs Mary and refuses to let go, Jim watching the two of them with fond eyes.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

            The school ends, they graduate.

           

            Roger thinks it would make a lot of sense if he were severely depressed right now, closing a chapter of his life that allowed him so much freedom and room for creativity and self-improvement. Hogwarts has been more than a school to him, it allowed him to prosper, both magically and musically, in a safe environment which he was unlikely to get if he had stayed home during those really painful teenage years.

 

            It gave him a family he thought he would never end, in the form of three obnoxious Slytherin boys who wouldn’t leave him alone and all those people who accompanied them. If you had asked a first year Roger, fresh off his muggle home and into a pot of magic he had never encountered before, with his fresh-eyed Gryffindor idealism, that blond rug rat would gag and spit at the idea of being in the bosom of snakes, who would have shown him nothing but warmth and acceptance and love. Not that Roger hasn’t found them in his house, with wonderful lions and lionesses like Jim who are fiercely protective like him, but he can’t help but admit things only clicked into place, he finally started to feel like himself in John’s spooky bass rhythms and in Freddie’s bold fashion disaster of shirts and in the deep magical stories of cosmos that Brian told him near the lake as he fell asleep with somber moonlight on his face.

 

            Roger watches as Brian gets up to speak after the headmaster, congratulating their graduating class and wishing them all well in their next endeavors. Towards the end of, what is admittedly a boring speech, he turns to the left to catch Roger’s eye, making him blush with the intensity of his gaze. His mane of a hair and the various piercings have received the disapproval of various parents throughout the day, among which are his and Freddie’s. Uncaring of the sour look on their father’s face, Clare squeals and clings to his arm when she catches the heated look they share.

 

            John shushes her from the row in front of them, Veronica hiding at the crook of his neck, stubbornly denying that she has been crying all day.

 

            Roger hears his father clear his throat.

 

            His acceptance letter came with the morning mail a week ago, asking for him to show up for preliminary interviews on Monday, which is but two days away. He had been a trembling mess, waiting for Freddie to make a big spectacle of opening it. It was a white envelope with his name written in golden letters on it. The contrast of it made his stomach churn and Brian just held his hand steady and laughed, everyone was so sure he would be accepted to the course. Roger had wanted to scream at him that he went through the same thing, getting the apprenticeship at Flamel’s observatory, shaking so hard that Roger was the one to open the damn letter and then snogging him senseless when it became obvious that Brian was dead to their congratulations.

 

            People erupt into cheers and Roger finds himself hoisting up Clare with one hand and Mary, who is planning to spend the summer at Freddie’s, with the other, whooping and whistling for his boyfriend, which makes the girls giggle something crazy. Brian flies to them, his limbs are too long and awkward to stay balanced on top of a broom, but this stumbling half run is more graceful than some of the stunts he had seen Jim do with his trusted Firebolt. In a haze Roger sees Freddie and John congratulating him with pats on his shoulders -or his bum in Freddie’s case- before he feels the familiar tingle of Brian’s curls all over his face, his bright laughter in his ear and then suddenly his lips are all over Roger’s as he picks Roger up and spins him around, kissing him for the whole school and their parents to see.

 

            Roger would think it’s from finally being free of the stress of a whole seven years, but to be honest, his brain doesn’t quite work right at that moment.

 

            When Brian finally lets him down, probably because he is way too oxygen-deprived to stand up himself let alone carry the -however slight- weight of Roger. They smile and giggle and laugh to each other, together, wrapped in their own little magical bubble that Roger can’t even feel the sweaty hair getting into his eyes or Freddie tapping him on the shoulder… actually quite insistently.

 

            Their parents are watching their little chaotic circle, Roger sees Freddie’s mom with tears in her beautiful black eyes and Brian’s father looks tired but extremely proud of what his somewhat unconventionally nerdy son has accomplished. Roger’s muggle parents though, who are already too uncomfortable in the magical world for a family who has been aware of its presence for more than seven years now, don’t really seem to share the teary joy or the pride. In fact, his mother looks quite ashen and his father is turning into a disturbing shade of purple.

 

            Funny how living in the magical world for so long makes this muggle-born boy forget the prejudices of his own reality so quickly.

 

            Brian’s mom is he first to act, hugging both Brian and Roger to her, tears streaming down her eyes with the pride of mothering such a talented intelligent son and showing no surprise or repulsion to Roger’s presence by her son’s side. She kisses Roger on both cheeks when Brian introduces them, holding both of their hands in her own and gushing and asking a million questions faster and more excited than Clare had been when she first found out that her brother was dating a boy.

 

            It’s precisely that innocent, honest excitement that becomes the final straw for Roger’s father, who grabs his arm hard enough to break to separate him from the May’s and take him away.

 

            Roger wants to scream or cry or do something, anything but he can’t do it in front of Brian’s parents who seem so nice or in front of Clare who should never see her family as broken as it really is.

           

            Brian reaches for him but stops when he sees the look in Roger’s eyes, eyes flickering between Roger and Clare, unsure how to proceed.

 

            It’s Freddie who finally makes the decision, or his mother to be more precise, obviously prompted by her son.

 

            “I’m sorry but I’m afraid I’ll have to ask the boys to dinner. You see my son has some important news to share and he just insists that nothing short of a cake would do. Brian? Roger? Come along now.”

 

            Veronica steps up to hold Roger’s hand, making his father let go of the bruised arm lest he does something to hurt some slight thin girl. His father still looks furious but Roger knows him by now, he will never act inappropriately in public, and certainly not in front of important people who are clearly in attendance today.

 

            Roger gulps, offering a grateful smile to Freddie’s mother.

 

            “Come, Clare, I’m sure they will let you stay in Kash’s room tonight,” he says to his sister, as Freddie’s younger sister comes to join them with a bright smile on her face.

 

            He turns to his father, the smile gone, suddenly too tired.

 

            “We won’t be back home tonight.”

 

            Later, when Freddie announces that they have got themselves an exclusive contract and an album deal over cake and tea, Roger hugs Brian close to him and finally allows himself to cry, then allows himself to be tickled until he can’t breathe from easy laughter and finally lets himself to dream of a future filled with drum beats, guitar solos and Freddie’s voice filling every nook and cranny that his parents have managed to crack in him for eighteen years.

 

 

* * *

 

 

            A thousand lights flash at once as the English beater kisses the leading man of the halftime show, Freddie licks his mouth lewdly as he watches Jim fly away before picking up the mic and leaning in close, winking for millions to see and cheer for.

 

            The crowd erupts like a volcano; wild, hot, untamable.

 

            There will be a million articles about them, and he can’t make it any more obvious that he doesn’t give a damn. Brian catches Roger’s eye from the corner, the Red Special at hand. Hundreds of feet up in the sky without a broom, Roger has never felt more like he was flying.

 

           

           

 

 

             

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This felt more like a summary, but I suppose that's what happens when you try to fit a bookful of plot into a short story...   
> But the struggle with writer's block and the anxiety resulting from it is a real deal for me -creating problems to worry about where none exists lol- so yeah, this is a better length for me. 
> 
> Anyways, thank you guys! 
> 
> -Fin-

**Author's Note:**

> I keep writing Maylor fics to gush about Freddie and Jim... what's up with that?


End file.
